A Kind Companion
by PuttingOutFireWithGasoliine
Summary: Freya, the goddess of love and sexuality, is reunited with a childhood playmate: Loki, the god of mischief. An intelligent, beautiful woman, she quickly becomes the object of his desire.
1. The Life of the Goddess of Love

A woman of beauty and wit, Freya often found herself among nobility. Though she bore a common origin, she escalated in social status throughout Asgard. By the tender age of nine, she shared the company of the princes themselves. However, Freya was never particularly fond of high-ranking members of society; she found many of them frighteningly dull. She learned at a young age that her intelligence was not valued—in fact it was seen as bothersome. Alas, her fate was sealed. She was born to be the goddess of love, and all it encompassed. So, head held high, Freya embraced what she could not ignore, and held her tongue when possible.

Freya spent several years in the Allfather's palace. Looking back, she understood that she was being evaluated as a potential wife for Thor, Odin's first-born. Apparently she did not meet the criteria; a proposal would have been issued once she was of age. She was rather glad this was the case, as Thor was oafish and unbearably egocentric. He was thirteen at the time of their companionship, making him four years her senior, and he reveled in this fact. Nearly every time she spoke, he mocked her lack of life experience and naïveté. Of course, his vocabulary was not grand enough to include such terminology; he was not the most intelligent fellow. She often attempted to gain revenge by pulling childish pranks. Such acts always ended in a scolding and mild forms of punishment.

She then set her eyes on a new target: Loki, Odin's other son. He was one year younger than Thor, but his intelligence far outmatched his brother. Loki was puzzling to Freya; he rarely spoke, but was extremely eloquent when he did. Freya's understanding of Asgard was that the males were verbose, but the quality of their conversation was minimal. He stood out in other ways, some rather blatant. He was lean; unlike the bulky warriors she was accustomed to seeing. He was also fair skinned, with raven locks and piercing green eyes. The typical Asgardian was warmer in skin tone, and oftentimes blonde, like Thor. Of course, Freya's appearance was also atypical. Her fair skin could sometimes come across as ghostly, and her flowing red hair was a rarity in itself. Perhaps it was that perceived commonality that drew her to him. Nevertheless, she tormented him with tricks and pranks. Nobody ever reprimanded her for mistreating Loki, which she took advantage of. However, Loki would respond with a ferocity that slightly scared her. The god of mischief did not take kindly to having the tables turned.

So long ago, she thought, as she gazed into her mirror. She was now twenty-five, and the years had heightened her beauty. She was fairly short for a woman of Asgard, and much more voluptuous. Her fiery red hair framed her heart-shaped face and rippled down her back. Her long, dark eyelashes proved handy while flirting, and her pale skin was prone to blushing—a successful method to make her appear innocent and bashful. She was, of course, quite the opposite of innocent. She had many lovers over the years, all of whom had their hearts crushed by the end of the affair. She found power in sensuality, and would manipulate the weak-minded with that might. It was her way of coping with what she was born to be.

She began to brush her hair, so that her maid would have an easier time of fixing it into an acceptable style. It had been a long time since she had a maid to wait on her, she mused as she observed her quarters. She was back at the Allfather's palace, this time for a ball. Odin graciously invited her to this sumptuous gathering, perhaps as a potential mistress for Thor, the future king. She could not think of a more unpleasant experience. Nevertheless, she gratefully accepted the invitation—one does not turn down the Allfather's invitation and stay in his favor.

The maid suddenly burst into the room, carrying an elegant red gown and a handful of hairpins.

"Quick now, Lady Freya! We wouldn't want you to be late for the ball!"

"Ah, but I am always late for such events," Freya returned, "I loathe hearing warriors drone on about their military conquests."

"Oh, what I would give to attend a party like this!" the maid said, as she expertly swept Freya's hair into a beautiful bun, with tendrils hanging down either side of her face.

"Please stand, Lady Freya, so I can lace you into your corset," requested the maid. Freya stood, admiring the maid's handiwork in the mirror, before pulling her corset over her head and onto her body. The maid soon began fiercely tugging away at the laces, crushing the air out of Freya's lungs. With her waist now significantly slimmer and her breasts pushed nearly up to her chin, Freya donned her crimson gown. It was cut low in the front, to emphasize her womanly assets, as well as in the back.

"I do believe your work here is done," Freya stated, and the maid soon scuttled out of the room. She slipped on her shoes, and exited her chambers. She knew this wing of the palace like the back of her hand, and it wasn't long before she reached the heavy wooden doors that led to the ballroom. She could hear music, laughter, and conversation—all the signs of typical Asgardian merrymaking. She inhaled as deeply as she could, given the restraint around her ribcage, and made her entrance.


	2. Meeting an Old Companion

The doors opened with a creaking sound, and more than a few eyes darted in her direction. Freya was, after all, one of the most buxom women in Asgard, and her attire certainly emphasized that. She tilted her chin upward, with an air of confidence, and sashayed into the ballroom. Almost immediately she was asked to dance, and she accepted the invitation with a broad grin and a batting of the eyelashes. The man twirled her around the room, all the while attempting to woo her with heroic tales of battle. She commenced her usual routine of feigning interest. The man was not a skilled dancer, like most men in Asgard. After he nearly crushed her foot beneath his, she claimed to be thirsty and retreated to the banquet table for some wine. She hoped that intoxication would improve the evening.

The next man she danced with was quite similar to the first; clumsy and proud of being a warrior. While she pretended to listen to his fascinating victory over a pair of frost giants, she scanned the room. She almost instantaneously spotted Odin and Thor, but Loki was not to be found. She pouted slightly. It would have been fun to tease him. Her dance partner noticed her change in expression, and inquired as to its cause. She again faked thirst and returned to the banquet table. The night progressed in this cycle, until she was tipsy from the amount of wine she had consumed.

A change in the pattern emerged suddenly as she visited the banquet table for the fifth or sixth time—she was beginning to lose count. Suddenly, a low, silky-smooth voice sounded from behind her, causing her to stiffen in surprise.

"Forgive me for noticing, but that appears to be your seventh glass of wine."

Freya turned slowly, familiarity suddenly dawning on her. There he stood, smirking. Loki had changed over the years. Once a thin, almost frail-looking boy, he was now comprised of lean muscle. He was still much thinner than most Asgardian men, but he had certainly bulked up since their last meeting. He stood around a foot taller than Freya, allowing him to gaze down at her with those green eyes. His raven hair was longer than it used to be, and his facial features had grown more prominent and masculine. He was quite striking.

"My, my, no response; the alcohol must be crippling your ability to speak." He chuckled and flashed his white teeth as he spoke.

"I am perfectly capable of speech," Freya retorted, "I just barely recognized you after all these years. You're very… tall." She immediately wanted to slap herself across the face. She had never sounded so incompetent. He smirked again, before speaking.

"I think 'perfectly capable' is an exaggeration, my lady. However, I am curious to know if you are at all capable of dancing." Freya was caught off guard, but was not about to let such an opportunity pass. She set down her wine glass, and tilted her head back so she could return the condescending gaze upon her.

"I am certainly capable of dancing, your highness." She quipped.

"Excellent." He returned. He extended his arm towards her, which she daintily grabbed, and then swept her out onto the dance floor. He was an exceptional dancer, and moved about the room with ease. She followed, more awkwardly than she would have hoped, and cursed herself for drinking that much wine. His right hand rested on her lower back, its warmth proving to be unusually comfortable. His other hand was entwined with hers, and she noticed just how very large his hands were. There was silence for a few moments, until Loki spoke again.

"You were quite the terror as a young girl, you know." He murmured. Freya laughed a little louder than she should have.

"As I recall, you were just as troublesome," She snapped. It was his turn to laugh, although he did so with much more grace than she.

"Well as I recall, you burned my favorite book." He whispered.

"That was because you destroyed my favorite doll!" She hissed.

"You stole my newest set of daggers!" He replied.

"Well, you put a spider in my hair!" She seethed. By this point, they were no longer dancing. Loki's hand was digging into Freya's back, and Freya was digging her nails into his palm. They were also significantly closer, their faces mere inches apart. They were starting to attract attention. Once the pair noticed this, they returned to dancing, and covered up their scowls.

"Let us forget what is past," Loki began, "We were children, after all."

"Yes," Freya nodded, "That was so many years ago." Loki grinned at her in a way she found rather alluring.

"So, how did it feel to dance with the future king of Asgard?" Loki coyly asked. Freya immediately found herself confused. Apparently, her facial expression conveyed that feeling, as Loki openly laughed. "You didn't even notice, did you?" Her mouth hung open in perplexity. "He was the fourth man you danced with." She gasped. She didn't pay enough attention to even realize she was dancing with Thor.

"Oh, dear," she bit her lip, "perhaps I have had too much to drink." Loki eyed her now pink lip before returning his gaze to her eyes.

"It is probably best that you head back to your quarters," he stated, "Shall I escort you?" Freya agreed hastily. She actually enjoyed the company of a prince.


	3. Midnight Rendevouz

It was midnight, and the extravaganza seemed to be dying down. Thor had already left with a woman, the two seemingly conjoined at the hip. Loki and Freya exited the ballroom, aware of the eyes upon them. Neither acknowledged the stares upon them, and strode into the dark corridor that led to the guest wing. The silence was palpable. They walked arm in arm, with Loki staring straight ahead. Freya relished his touch, and smiled to herself.

Once they were away from all the other partygoers, Loki pushed Freya up against the wall, pinning her with his knee and placing both hands on either side of her head. She was startled by this action, and wasn't sure whether this was out of passion or anger. She found her answer by looking into her emerald eyes. They were half-lidded, and much softer than before. Her mouth opened slightly so she could take a breath, and Loki crushed his lips against hers. His tongue probed her mouth, moving against her own. She softly moaned. Suddenly, he pulled away, looking embarrassed.

"I—I'm so sorry," the words tumbled out of his mouth before she could assess what had happened. "I shouldn't have assumed that you wanted me." He started to back away.

"Wait, Loki," she called before he could get any further away, "I do want you." He looked into her eyes. "I think you should escort me to my chambers, as you promised," she tasted her lip, his saliva still fresh. He exhaled slowly as she did this, and she could tell he knew exactly what she was wanting. He smiled, his air of confidence returned, and wrapped his arm around her waist. They began to walk again, this time at a more hurried pace. At this speed, it was no time at all before they reached her chamber door. She smiled at him flirtatiously before opening the door and pulling him inside.

The room was dimly illuminated by a candle that her maid had lit, knowing Freya would return late at night. It provided an intimate atmosphere. Freya grabbed the front of Loki's armor and pulled him close, pressing her lips against his. He cradled her face in his hands as the kiss deepened, and then ran his fingertips along her collarbone. He was dangerously close to touching her breasts. He began to softly kiss her neck, suckling and lightly biting the pale flesh. His hands moved to her back, pulling their hips together. He lightly ran his hand over her buttocks before he grabbed her leg behind the knee, hiking it up against him. She sighed as he did so, and he returned his lips back to hers. Her body temperature began to rise.

"There is far too much clothing between us," she pouted. Loki couldn't resist kissing her pouted lips, and then began to remove his armor. Once the armor hit the floor, Freya placed her hands on his chest, feeling his muscles beneath the tunic he wore. He smirked, and she began kissing his neck. She sucked at the skin, making sure to leave a mark for the world to see.

"You know everyone will see that," he stated with a hint of pride.

"That's the point, love," she purred into the crook of his neck. He groaned as she pulled his tunic above his head, revealing his sculpted chest. She began to kiss a trail down to his navel, and he stopped her as she tugged at the front of his pants.

"I want to see you," he requested. Freya smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek before attempting to remove her gown. He stopped her once more. "I would like to do that." She nodded, granting permission. He roughly grabbed the dress and yanked it over her head, revealing her corseted form. His breath caught at the sight. She turned and gestured to the laces on her corset. She was taken aback as he used magic to loosen them. He came up close behind her, removing the corset. She could feel his arousal against the back of her thigh. He kissed her shoulder before turning her so she was facing him again. He swallowed hard at the sight of her nearly naked body. He picked her up and tossed her onto the bed in the center of the room. He was soon on top of her, their lips moving as one. He ripped off her remaining underwear and began kissing down the front of her body. He grabbed her large breasts in his hands, kneading them and kissing each one on its rosy peak. Freya pulled his pants down, and then off, as Loki kicked off his boots. The only article of clothing remaining on him was his underwear. She stroked his erection through the front of the garment before tugging those off as well. She marveled at the size of him.

They returned to their fevered lip-locking, Loki now planting himself completely on top of Freya. She was aroused to the point of light-headedness. All traces of alcohol were gone. Loki was the intoxicant. He pushed her legs apart with his knee before pulling them around his hips. He was right at her entrance. She needed him now.

"Loki, please," she begged, making eye contact. He obliged, pushing into her slowly. He watched her facial expression as he pushed each inch in, arousing him more. He pulled out, and their lovemaking began. They picked up a rhythm, rocking back and forth, causing the bed to squeak. He began forcing himself in and out with more power, and she dug her nails into his back. As the speed and force increased, Freya began moaning and chanting Loki's name. Her nails dug deeper, sure to leave visible scratches on his pale skin. She was extremely close to climax.

"Wait!" She cried out suddenly. He looked puzzled, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. She laid her hands on his chest and rolled him over so that she was on top. She began grinding her hips, riding him slowly. He began groaning, and placed his hands on her hips in order to speed up the process. With his hands aiding her, they soon regained their former rhythm, their bodies sweating. In this position, he was able to hit her in that certain spot over and over, heightening her pleasure. Their moans soon became more guttural, animalistic sounds, and Loki flipped Freya over so that he regained dominance. He pounded her in this position until that spectacular feeling built up and exploded in both of them. He remained within her for a few precious moments before pulling out.

They were both panting incessantly, trying to catch their breath. They lay, side by side, staring at the ceiling, processing the night's events. He turned to her and planted a soft kiss on her lips, and then roughly bit her shoulder. She gasped at the pain.

"And that, my lady, is for all the torment you caused me throughout my childhood," he grinned devilishly before turning her body away from him and cuddling up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her warm figure, pulling her close.


	4. Beginnings

The light of late morning poured through the chamber window, pulling Freya from her peaceful slumber. She could not feel Loki's embrace, and turned to assess his whereabouts. She found herself gazing into those mischievous, bottle green eyes, and sheepishly smiled. Loki was lying on his side; his head propped up by is hand. His hair, disheveled, hung about his face in a charming manner. Freya noticed mild dark circles beneath his eyes—a testimony to their night's activity. His pale, lean chest rose and fell slowly with each contented breath.

"Good morning, darling," Loki began with a wide grin, "or—more appropriately—good afternoon." He extended his arm towards her and ran his hand down the curve of her hip. She bit her lip as he did so, recalling how he had placed his hands on her hips while they made love. "Sleep well?" he continued, almost sardonically.

"I slept wonderfully," Freya replied, "once we actually went to sleep." It was her turn to flash a devious smile. Loki chuckled and moved his hand up Freya's ribcage, towards her breast.

"I must say, you are a spectacular bedmate." Loki mused, "Your title suits you." Freya cocked her head to the side, raising her eyebrows in slight disapproval. He keyed in on this expression, and quickly added, "Did I offend? I assure you, that was not my intent. I meant that as a compliment." Freya sighed and turned her back to Loki; though he had taken her to bed, she was not going to be an easy catch. She sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and pulled her long red hair to the side before crossing her arms. She knew her hair would begin to slide down her back again—the gesture was entirely for show. She felt the bed quake as Loki righted himself and crawled up behind her, kissing her shoulder blades and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"You should know by now not to toy with me, love," he whispered in her ear, sending chills down her spine. His face remained at the crook of her neck, his warm breath caressing her skin, as his hand glided over the goose bumps on her upper arm. She found it harder to be frigid with him than with her other lovers; she found him desirable, and much more irresistible than any other man she had been with. She turned her head until their lips met in a soft kiss. Loki groaned deep in his throat, and Freya wanted to throw herself at him then and there.

"Your goose-bumped flesh tells me that you are cold," Loki murmured, "Please come back beneath the covers so I can properly warm you." Freya nodded her assent, heart aflutter, and Loki pulled her with him as they returned to the center of the bed. Under the sheets, Loki positioned himself on top of Freya, and ran his tongue from her sternum to her neck. Freya gasped as his saliva dried, leaving a cold trail.

"I thought your so-called intent was to warm me," she quipped. Loki let out a low laugh.

"Rest assured, I will warm you, my lady." He returned, before adding, "However, I do appreciate the effects that the chilly air has on you." His hand ghosted over her breast, his eyes following the movement, before placing a kiss on the lump of flesh. Freya could take his teasing no more. She could feel his erection against her thigh, and desperately wanted him to claim her once more.

"Just take me already, Loki!" She begged. Her arousal counteracted any inhibition she had.

"My, my, my," mocked Loki, "the Goddess of Love so needy for Odin's second-born? So overcome with animalistic passion that—"

She ended his jesting by nearly devouring his mouth, unceremoniously shoving her tongue down his throat. Finally, Loki gave in to Freya's wishes. He reciprocated the kiss with a startling fury, and roughly thrust into her. Freya cried out in both pain and pleasure, her voice muffled by Loki's lips. As they made love, Loki yanked Freya's leg up and over his shoulder, allowing him to deeply penetrate her. Loki was much more vocal this time around, moaning Freya's name over and over, like a fervent prayer. Freya was coming apart at the seams, clutching the sheets for dear life. She bit her lip so hard that she began to taste blood. Finally, as climax dawned on the horizon, Freya's maid burst into the room, dragging a wooden trunk behind her.

The interruption at first went unnoticed by Loki, who needed a hard shove to bring him back to reality. In a split second, Freya pulled herself out from under Loki, who grunted as his throbbing manhood left her warmth. The maid stood, bewildered, at the chamber door, unsure of what to do. Freya composed herself and covered her naked body.

"I am so, so sorry, Lady Freya!" The maid stuttered, "I had no idea you had company!" The maid then switched her gaze to Loki, who was breathing raggedly, unable to form words just yet. "Oh! Prince Loki!" The maid curtsied awkwardly, "I did not expect to see you here! I just came to help Lady Freya gather her things so she can leave with all of the other guests." Loki held up his hand to stop her from speaking.

"Leave her things alone," he spoke between each heavy breath. He inhaled deeply, and then explained, "Lady Freya will be staying here to be tutored in sorcery." Freya knitted her brows in confusion, mouth agape.

"As you wish, your highness." The maid nodded and exited the room, taking the trunk with her. Freya turned to Loki, derision on her face.

"So, Silvertongue," Freya teased, "who will be teaching me sorcery?" Loki smirked.

"The most qualified sorcerer in the nine realms." He paused, "Your Prince." Freya scoffed.

"A little bit full of ourselves, are we?" she chided. Loki rolled his eyes and moved in for a kiss.

"Say what you will, darling; just remember that I can make you beg like a common whore for my affections." Freya indignantly shrieked and landed a blow to Loki's chest. He laughed and grabbed Freya's chin, resting his forehead against hers, and then caressed her cheek. The energy between them shifted suddenly. Instead of being charged with purely sexual tension, the moment seemed emotionally intimate. This was new territory for both of them. Freya nuzzled Loki's high cheekbones, closing her eyes with a sigh. Her eyelashes brushed against his face, new electricity flowing through their skin. Loki stiffened and pressed his lips together.

"I must go." He abruptly stated. "I have responsibilities to attend to."


	5. A Lesson in Magic

Freya did not see Loki again for several days. She wandered about the castle, retracing the steps she took as a child, and contemplating the interaction she and Loki shared. She couldn't help but feel disheartened; his demeanor was so very cold when he left her chambers that day. She was used to being the frigid one. She would seduce a man, make love to him, and leave—oftentimes immediately afterwards—breaking his heart, or at least deflating his ego. The thought of having the tables turned on her was disturbing. She had never felt a connection with anyone like she did with Loki, and would loathe seeing it shattered. Perhaps she had not been adequate, she thought, as she paced through the castle gardens. However, Loki's vocal affirmation of her talent hinted otherwise. He is known as Silvertongue for a reason, she considered. She did not understand why she was so vulnerable to his advances. Most women in Asgard would only bed him for his royal status. But Freya knew she was not like most Asgardian women, especially when it came to the raven-haired Prince.

She decided to cut her musing short and return to her chambers, where she found a sizeable package on her bed. On it was a piece of parchment that read:

_You will need these for your training. ~Loki_

Freya sighed at the curtness of this message, and opened the package. Beneath the wrapping was a box. She lifted the lid to find a pile of leather garments. She examined the pile, and discovered a pair of boots, pants, and a vest. She immediately discarded her clothing to try them on. Looking in the mirror, she noticed how the leather hugged her figure, unabashedly flaunting her hourglass figure. The vest was tight enough that it smashed her breasts together, creating a ridiculous amount of cleavage. Freya snorted in derision. Of course a man would want her to wear this, she thought.

"I certainly didn't expect that reaction," a deep voice blurted out from the corner of the room. Lo and behold, Loki was standing, arms crossed, at the entrance of her chamber. "Your door was slightly ajar," he explained as she stared at him, perplexed, "You must not have heard me come in."

"How long have you been standing there?" Freya inquired. Loki grinned mischievously.

"Long enough." He replied. Freya was appalled and slightly aroused by the fact that he watched her undress, unbeknownst to her. She frowned and returned her gaze to the mirror. Loki slowly crossed the room, eyeing Freya, before coming to a standstill beside her. After staring directly at her, he too looked into the mirror.

"So," he began, "what don't you like about it?"

"I think they're too tight." Freya stated. Loki cocked his head to the side, his eyes roving up and down her reflection.

"I think you look stunning." He said. "Every woman in Asgard would give their right hand to look that appealing."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Freya retorted. "I saw where your eyes lingered." He chuckled and turned to face her. His demeanor suddenly became playful.

"My lady, considering the incomplete state of our last encounter, I have hardly been able to think about anything else." He whispered. "My eyes would linger no matter what clothes you wear." Freya cast her eyes downward as she smirked. When her gaze returned upwards she found Loki's face mere inches from hers. He kissed her softly.

"Come now," he said, his eyes boring into hers, "I am going to make good on my word. I will teach you how to use magic." He grabbed her hand and led her from the bedchamber.

Loki took Freya to the palace stables, where he requested two horses. Loki helped hoist Freya up onto her horse before mounting a black stallion. The two began to ride off the palace grounds and into the surrounding wilderness.

"And where exactly are we going, my Prince?" Freya called out over the pounding of hooves. Loki did not respond. He simply turned towards Freya and winked. She could feel her heartbeat quicken at his charm. She bristled and focused her attention forward. Soon they were among a thicket of trees, diving into a deep forest. The horses slowed their pace to accommodate the uneven forest floor. The trees provided silence and shade.

"We are nearly there." Loki stated, a clearing in the trees visible ahead. As they entered the clearing, the sun returned its rays to their skin. The area was wide, grassy, and completely silent. Loki dismounted off his horse and tied its reigns to a nearby branch before assisting Freya with her descent. As she swung her leg over the horse, she felt a large hand firmly grip her buttock. Loki chuckled before helping her off the horse. She shot him a dirty look, which he returned with a devilish grin.

Loki strode to the center of the clearing, and bade Freya to follow. As she approached him, a pair of strong arms gripped her from behind. Freya attempted to scream, but the attacker's hand stifled the sound. She looked to Loki for help, but he made no attempt to provide assistance. Freya truly feared for her life. She felt the person behind her plant a kiss on her cheek as Loki seemingly evaporated. The strong arms released her, and she fell to the ground, panting and confused. She looked over her shoulder to see who had been restraining her, only to see Loki crouched close behind. Perplexed, she looked back to the spot where Loki had previously been standing. She turned back to the Loki behind her, to find him grinning smugly.

"Magic?" She panted, still feeling slightly afraid. Loki nodded. Outraged, Freya screamed and lunged at his crouched form. She knocked him on his back, and was pounding her fists into his chest. His expression was at first shocked, then exceedingly amused. She pinned his shoulders down with her hands.

"That was _not _funny, Loki!" She seethed, tears beginning to sting her eyes. His expression softened as a drop rolled down her cheek and off onto him. She shouted several obscenities before standing and walking towards her horse. Loki picked himself off the ground and ran after her. He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.

"I am so sorry, Freya," he stated several times. "Please forgive me. I was simply trying to show you how one of my abilities." She raised her eyebrows.

"That was your way of showing me?" Freya exclaimed, "I thought I was going to die!" Again, Loki issued a string of apologies. His earnest tone eased her anger. "Don't do that ever again."

"I promise," Loki assured her. "May I show you in a different way?" He pleaded, to which Freya agreed. Suddenly, two men stood before her—and both of them were Loki. Swallowing any leftover resentment, Freya couldn't help but be amazed.

"Which one is the real you?" She inquired. She shifted her gaze from one to the other.

"Both," Loki stated, as his double vanished. "I can alter between them. I can make as many as I want." Freya was utterly impressed.

"Do it again," she commanded. He smiled, and the second Loki returned. She stepped towards the newly created double, and touched his face tentatively. She ran her fingertips over his lips, which parted slightly at her touch. She felt the original Loki place his hands on her hips and rest his chin on top of her head. As she felt the warmth of both of Loki's bodies, an extremely carnal thought entered her mind, which she automatically expelled. In an instant, the Loki in front of her vanished once more. Freya caressed the hands on her hips, which wrapped around her body.

"Why did you get rid of him?" Freya asked. Loki let out a dark laugh, before kissing the top of her head.

"Even though it was me, I still didn't like seeing you touch another man that way." Freya smiled to herself. She liked that she could make him jealous—not to use against him, necessarily. She just was happy that he cared for her enough to envy the touch of another man.

"I think I've learned enough about magic for today." Freya said, deviously, as she brought Loki's large hand to her lips. She pivoted so that she was facing him, and saw the puzzlement on Loki's face. She encircled his neck with her arms, pulling him into a passionate kiss. "As I recall, our last encounter was cut short. Would you care to start where we left off?" She seductively whispered in his ear.

"Tell me what you want me to do, my lovely," he returned, biting at her earlobe. "Say it for me." She kissed his neck, sucking at the skin, leaving another mark.

"Make love to me, darling," she replied, "right here, in this clearing." Loki moaned into the crook of her neck.

"I will make love to you all day, and all night, if you wish." He murmured.

"I propose we stop speaking and make good on that promise," Freya teased. Loki pressed his lips to hers, launching the passionate exchange that would occupy them late into the night. Freya had never made love on the cold ground before, but Loki made it quite enjoyable.


	6. Comfort

The next two months passed in a similar fashion, with the two lovers escaping to that same clearing in order to practice magic. Freya picked up sorcery with more ease than most, which left the couple ample time to be intimate. She could now conjure fire with her fingertips, and was secretly in the process of learning how to form restraints from thin air—a talent with which she was eager to surprise her tutor. Loki spent many nights in Freya's chambers, which did not go unnoticed around the palace. Whenever Thor found them together around the castle, he would guffaw and clap Loki on the back. While Freya found this behavior irksome, she couldn't help but notice the pride in Loki's emerald eyes. She understood that their relationship was a small victory for him; there were not many areas in which Loki could surpass Thor.

However, the Allfather soon noticed where Loki spent most evenings, and was not as amused as Thor. This was mostly because Frigga, Odin's wife, did not want her son earning a scandalous reputation. In Asgard, such affairs were only socially justified if the woman of interest was declared a mistress, or if the man was officially courting her. Both options were sticky; a mistress was commonly acknowledged as a whore, and a courtship would have to lead to marriage or separation. This put pressure on the relationship, both of them knowing that Loki would have to make a choice soon enough. Nevertheless, their intimate encounters continued.

Then, one evening, as Freya sat alone in her chambers, she heard a sharp rap on her door. She stood, crossed the room, and opened it to find a palace guard.

"Lady Freya," the man announced, "Prince Loki has requested your presence in his chambers."

"Ah," Freya replied, noticing that the nightgown she wore was hardly appropriate, "Should I change first?"

"Prince Loki instructed me to bring you immediately." The man stated. Freya shrugged and stepped into the hallway, closing her door behind her. "Please follow me, my lady." The guard added. He briskly strode down the hallway, with Freya nearly jogging to keep up. They journeyed through several corridors, each passage becoming more and more foreign to her. Soon, they came upon a grand wooden door with a silver handle.

"Here we are." The guard boomed, before turning and marching back down the hallway, leaving Freya alone before the slightly formidable door. She hesitantly drummed her knuckles against the rich brown wood, and waited for a response. When none came, she knocked again. Still no answer, Freya became agitated. She boldly gripped the silver handle and pushed the door open.

The room within was bathed in golden candlelight, which emphasized the regality of the space. Freya's eyes wandered over the massive bed in the center of the room, dressed in bottle green sheets, the matching drapes over the far window, and the innumerable bookcases. Opposite of the bed was a roaring fireplace, accompanied by a luxurious green sofa. On this sofa sat Loki, hunched over, with his fingers masking his face. This obvious air of vulnerability concerned Freya, and she quickly made her way to him, joining him on the couch.

"Loki?" She said softly. He pulled his hand from his face and turned towards her. She saw pain in his eyes, his usual sparkle of mischief gone. The rest of his face looked like cold marble. Freya rested her palm on his cheek, searching his expression for any hint of what might be bothering him. She did not have to wonder for very long.

"In a week's time, Thor will be crowned King of Asgard." His voice struggled to keep from breaking as he confessed this. He squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hand through his ink black locks. Freya knew not what to say. No man had ever confided in her like this. She felt genuine pity for the Prince—she knew he had never been treated the same as his brother. She decided to go with her gut instinct. She pulled him into a close embrace, running her hands over his back.

"I am so sorry, my Prince. I know how this must affect you." She consoled. He exhaled heavily, and laid his head on her warm shoulder. They sat like this for several moments, silent, as Freya relished Loki's touch. Loki lifted his head, and kissed the corner of Freya's mouth. She smiled and scooted herself onto his lap, kissing along his defined jawbone. His arms encircled her hips, pulling her closer, and he began to suckle her neck. Freya sighed as he did so. In this new position, Freya's neck was at Loki's eye level, making his ministrations easier to accomplish than usual. He nipped lightly at her skin, and Freya wondered exactly how many marks she would find there in the morning. Loki paused and bit his lip.

"I've made my decision—that is, as long as it pleases you." He cleared his throat as he said this. It took Freya a few seconds to realize that he spoke of their relationship. His emerald eyes searched hers for a moment, before he began. "My dear Freya, I would be honored if you desired a courtship with me." Freya did not expect this option, especially delivered so humbly, and was taken aback for a moment. When his confidence began to falter, she grabbed his face with both hands and planted a fervent kiss on his lips.

"I would like that very much," She replied, her face breaking into a wide grin.

"Excellent," Loki returned, "I have one other proposal: would you care to spend the night in my chambers?" She chuckled and nodded. Freya knew that Thor's crowning was still heavy on Loki's heart, and made it her goal to distract him for at least one night.

Making love in the royal bedchamber proved to be much lovelier than doing so in the guest chambers or the forest. Loki's silk sheets caressed the skin softly, and his soft mattress nearly absorbed her as he laid his body on top of hers. After a rather ethereal climax, Loki rolled over onto his back beside Freya. Pouting at the loss of contact, Freya snuggled up to his side, resting her head on his chest. Loki stroked her hair softly, and Freya closed her eyes. She listened to his heartbeat as his chest rose and fell. Soon his breathing became rhythmic and deep, and his hand ceased its movement. She turned her head to discover that the Prince had fallen asleep. She smiled and returned her head to its place on his chest, closing her eyes once more.

"I love you." She whispered, as sleep overcame her.


	7. From Mischief to Mayhem

Three days later, Loki and Freya returned to the clearing in the woods. Both wore their leather garments, which clung uncomfortably to their skin in the mid day heat. Though stifling in the present weather, the leather was a necessity; Freya had learned enough magic to hold her own in a sparring match, and fire spells had a particularly devastating effect on woven fabrics. In addition, the thick material provided a good barrier between Freya's skin and the rough ground—upon which she was often knocked down. Loki did not exercise his full capabilities, yet he still won every match. This was the downside of practicing with the most accomplished sorcerer in Asgard.

After being blown into a nearby tree by a particularly strong blunt-force spell, Freya collapsed on the ground. The impact had crushed the air out of her lungs, and she struggled in silence to gain back her breath. She felt a warm trickle down her bare arm, and discovered a raw gash just above her elbow. Loki, who had grown cocky with the casting of each hex, approached Freya, extending his hand to help her up as he smirked. Still breathless, Freya slapped his hand out of the way before clumsily righting herself. It was then that Loki caught sight of her bleeding wound, and abandoned his smug attitude.

"If you won't allow me to help you off the ground, then at least allow me to fix _that_." He commanded, gesturing towards her injury. Freya huffed and offered up her battered arm, which Loki took with both hands. He ran his long finger over the lesion, muttering strange words Freya had never hear before. Suddenly, a sharp stinging pulsed within the flesh of her arm, making Freya whimper. She watched as her skin began to knit back together, leaving only a smudge of blood as evidence of her former gash. She was amazed by this enchantment.

"Loki," she jokingly scolded, "why haven't you taught me that spell?" He flashed his white teeth and grabbed her small hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles.

"Another time, my eager pupil," he replied, before adding, "I believe we have practiced enough for one day." He walked to the center of the clearing and plopped himself down in the grass. Freya joined him, sitting cross-legged in a patch of clovers. The sun beat down ruthlessly on their heads. Loki, obviously fed up with the clinging, sticky leather, discarded his tunic and undershirt, exposing his bare chest to the breeze. He reclined, placing his hands behind his head, and exhaled slowly as he closed his eyes. Freya couldn't help but admire his body, letting her eyes wander from his sinewy chest to the coarse black hairs that trailed from his navel to the top of his pants. He was quite a stunning creature.

"I sometimes envy men." Freya began, eyes lingering on Loki's naked abdomen, "It is not nearly as acceptable for a woman to discard her shirt in public as it is for a man." Loki chuckled, the muscles of his stomach rippling.

"I certainly would not stop you from removing your shirt, if you so desired," he jested, opening his eyes to gaze upon her cleavage. Freya playfully smacked his chest before lying on her back beside him, resting her hands on her stomach. The two stared up at the sky for several silent moments. Freya turned her head towards Loki, to find him deep in thought. She figured that he was thinking about Thor's impending crowning ceremony, and did not want to make him revisit that painful subject. After another moment of stillness, Loki twisted his head to face hers.

"Can I trust you?" He solemnly asked. Freya was caught off guard by the gravity of his tone.

"Yes," she replied, after a moment of thought. He chewed on the inside corner of his mouth.

"I mean, Freya, if I told you something—in utter confidence—would you swear to not tell a soul?" He probed. She was befuddled, and becoming concerned.

"Yes, Loki," She responded with confidence.

"Even if it were treason?" He continued his interrogation.

"Yes! Loki, just tell me!" She exclaimed, slightly frantic. He paused, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

"Thor's ceremony will be rudely interrupted." He said cryptically. Freya knit her eyebrows in confusion.

"By whom? And why do you know this?" It was her turn to pry. He kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, preventing any eye contact.

"It is more a matter of _what _than _whom_," Loki muttered, "and I know because I devised the event in advance."

"What are you going to do, Loki?" Freya whispered, eyes wide with worry. He finally turned his emerald eyes on hers.

"Frost Giants will storm the bowels of the castle." He confided, his voice tinged with dark pride.

This plan crossed farther than any of Loki's schemes as a child. This was not mischief; this was mayhem. Freya knew that Loki had always been jealous of Thor, but such a dangerous plot illuminated a new side of Loki. He was abandoning the identity of a neglected child and adopting that of a volatile man. Every ounce of reason in her mind told her to run, to tell the Allfather, but her heart told her the opposite. He seemed happy—truly happy—as he told her of his plan, and she wouldn't dare stomp out that ember. She thought about their relationship; about how she had never felt this way for a man. She knew she wasn't merely infatuated with Loki. She was in love, for the first time in her life, and probably the last. She had never mentioned the severity of her affection to him, aside from the moments when she knew he was asleep and could not hear. He had never confessed love for her, so she had no idea if the sentiment was reciprocal.

Freya thought about what her life would be like if she ended their courtship. Her mind raced with dull parties, war stories, and the beds of oafish men. The very notion made her feel ill. She knew that if she wanted any chance at happiness, she would have to stand by Loki. Her decision was made.

"Please be careful," she urged, leaning over to kiss his forehead. Loki pulled her into a nearly smothering embrace, sighing contentedly.


	8. The Ceremony

The morning of Thor's ceremony dawned sooner than desired. Freya sat in her chambers, chewing at her fingernails. Loki had gone to meet with the Frost Giant's king once more, and Freya anxiously awaited his return. Every child in Asgard was told horror stories of Jotunheim, and her sweet Prince was there of his own volition. She heard a knock on her door. Her maid usually barged right in, so she knew the visitor to be someone else. She leapt from her bed, crossed the room, and opened the door in almost one fell swoop. Her heart moved from her stomach back into her chest as she found Loki standing before her. He wore his ceremonial armor and horned helmet; he looked absolutely breathtaking. He greeted her with a smile, which she returned in earnest.

"May I come in?" He politely requested. Freya nodded vigorously, and pulled him into her chambers. As soon as the door closed behind him, she pulled him close against her. His armor was uncomfortably chilly, but she did not care. His arms wrapped around her waist, ensuring that there was not a sliver of daylight between them. Freya nuzzled his neck.

"Everything should go smoothly," Loki whispered, wary of the maid's frequent interruptions. Freya swallowed hard and bit her lip. Loki raised his hand upwards and lightly held her chin. He stared deeply into her eyes before softly kissing her lips. As soon as their lips parted with a light sucking sound, Freya's maid entered the room. She had become accustomed to finding Loki in Freya's bedchambers, and was probably thankful that both parties were clothed.

"Good morning, your highness," she greeted Loki with a curtsy, "If you will excuse me, Lady Freya needs to be readied for today's ceremony." He nodded curtly and kissed Freya once more before heading towards the exit.

"You must be so proud of your brother!" She added with a good-natured grin. He paused at the door, turning back towards the center of the room.

"Of course," he flatly stated, his eyes meeting Freya's. He turned on his heel and made his exit.

"Now, Lady Freya, if you would stand so I may lace your corset." The maid requested. Freya acquiesced and stood, slipping the corset over her head, before turning towards the mirror. Her maid yanked the laces with unusual vigor, causing Freya to gasp more than usual. "I apologize," she added, "but you must look your best for a ceremony of such grandeur. This is no mere ball." Freya nodded in agreement. She wanted to look her best, but not for the ceremony—for Loki.

"I must say," the maid mused, "Prince Loki seems so severe. Does he ever smile?" Freya ground her teeth together to keep from reprimanding her.

"He does," she replied, "quite often, in fact." The maid finished binding her in that confounded garment, and handed her a bright green gown. Freya was taken aback by the color choice.

"To match the Prince," the maid explained, "I heard you are officially courting. Congratulations, my Lady. I do hope to hear of a proposal soon."

"Thank you," Freya responded, suppressing her irritation.

The ceremony took place in the great hall of the royal wing. The massive room was adorned in red drapery, the color of Thor's cape. Freya, being a commoner, did not receive front row seats to the event. She sat several rows back, craning her neck to see the scene at the front of the room. Of course, her eyes were only for Loki. He stood, stony-faced, as the ceremony progressed. Freya could not hear what was being said, but did not really care. Thor knelt before the Allfather, waiting to be crowned. Suddenly, Odin snapped his head up, sensing a disturbance. He murmured something, which caused the audience to gasp and become frantic. Freya knew the moment had arrived. She returned her gaze to Loki, who remained cool and inconspicuous. The ceremony was put on hold as Odin, Thor, and Loki rushed out of the room.

Freya's heart pounded in her chest. Her nails dug into the palm of her hand, drawing blood. Her head began to swim, thoughts of treason and execution plaguing her consciousness. She found it harder and harder to breathe. Soon she was gasping for air. The crowd began to swarm towards the exits, blurring her vision. She felt nauseous. The thought of a Frost Giant killing or maiming anybody caused her to panic. She broke out in a cold sweat. As she attempted to take a step, her knees gave way, and her vision blacked out. The noises of the crowd were muffled and distorted, and eventually stopped altogether.


	9. A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

When Freya opened her eyes, she found herself back in her bedchambers. She was sprawled out beneath the covers of her bed, and her maid was dabbing at her forehead with a cool washcloth. She no longer felt the restraint of her corset, and discovered that she was back in her nightgown. Immediately, she sat up and looked out the window. It was dark outside. She turned to her maid.

"What happened?" She inquired, as the maid dipped the washcloth back into a basin full of water.

"You fainted," She replied, "The day's events must have been too stressful."

"And what did the day's events include?" Freya questioned, masking the anxiety she still felt.

"Well, Thor was about to be crowned the King of Asgard when the Allfather sensed that Frost Giants had penetrated the castle walls." She began, "The ceremony was cut short, and the men ran off to investigate. As it turns out, the Frost Giants were after the casket that Odin had taken from them after the Great War."

"I see," said Freya, relaxing her posture.

"I wasn't finished." The maid continued, "You see, I heard from some of the staff that after Prince Thor found out why his day was ruined, he wanted to seek revenge. He, Prince Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three headed to Jotunheim to confront King Laufey." Freya shot straight up once more.

"Were they harmed? Is Loki alright?" Freya's heart dropped to her stomach. She began to chew her nails in sickening worry.

"Prince Loki is fine. So is Sif. One of the Warriors Three—I'm not sure who—was injured, but should recover. Thor, on the other hand, has been banished."

"What?!" Freya exclaimed. She could not believe her ears. She felt some pity for Thor, but her heart swelled for Loki. Perhaps he would finally be treated like a true Asgardian Prince. Suddenly there was a knock at her door. The maid opened it a crack, whispered something unintelligible, and nodded her head.

"Lady Freya," she called, "your presence is requested in the throne room." Freya's heart stood still. She couldn't see any reason for the Allfather requesting her presence other than to accuse her of conspiracy and treason. She hurriedly threw back the covers and exited the room, to find a palace guard.

"Follow me." He commanded. Freya obediently trailed behind him as he led her to the royal wing. She nervously scratched at her forearm, trying to picture a scenario in which she wasn't executed. Soon they reached a grand golden door flanked by two guards. As Freya approached, they granted her access to the throne room. The door opened, revealing an equally grand interior. Freya entered, eyes downcast, and knelt in the center of the room.

"Out," she heard a low, silky voice command. Startled by the sound, her head whipped up to gaze upon the majestic throne. Seated upon it was a thin, tall man with raven black hair—Loki. He sat, legs spread wide, with a golden staff in his right hand. His horned helmet made him appear formidable. The guards obeyed his command, exiting the massive room. The golden door shut behind them with a thud.

Freya could do nothing but stare. She knew not why or how, but at this moment, Loki was the King of Asgard. Her heart soared. She stared into his emerald eyes, smiling like a fool. This time, he did not return the gesture. He cleared his throat.

"You do not have to keep kneeling," he said, frigid. Freya wiped the idiotic grin off her face and rose to her feet. Loki remained seated. "I do not want to waste your time," he began, "so I will keep this brief. I am ending our courtship." His eyes, so harsh, bored into Freya's. She did not understand. Tears stung her brown eyes. Loki averted his gaze.

"Why, Loki?" she stammered, "What have I done wrong?" He stood and turned his back to her.

"You have done nothing wrong, Lady Freya." He stated, "I simply can no longer court you." He might as well have taken a knife to her chest. She began to cry silently, tears streaming down her face.

"But there must be a reason," she could barely utter the words. Loki shook his head.

"I can no longer afford such frivolous ventures." He bluntly responded. Her sorrow turned to white-hot fury. She wiped the tears from her face, gritting her teeth.

"You are an arrogant, spoiled, heartless palace brat!" She spat out the words with venom she had never known. She stomped her way up towards the throne. "You think that royal blood grants you permission to treat me this way? You are a sniveling, poor excuse for a king!" She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face her, his staff clattering to the floor. "You look me in the eye when you discard me like rubbish!" She slapped him across the face. He grabbed her wrist in a bone-twisting grip, and thrust her onto the floor. She whimpered at the pain.

"You know nothing!" He screamed, a vein pulsing in his forehead. "Nothing!" He paced back and forth furiously, running his hands over his face. Freya dissolved into a sobbing pile on the floor, her breathing ragged. Her anger shifted to self-loathing.

"I am nothing but a useless whore." She dug her nails into the skin on her arm. "I wouldn't want me, either." She stood, a heaving mess, and made her way towards the door.

"You are wrong." She heard Loki say. "You are not a useless whore. I just don't deserve you." Freya turned, looking back at the new king. There were tears in his eyes. He grabbed his staff, and placed his hand on the blue orb at the top. His skin began to change color, turning an icy blue. His features hardened and an intricate pattern formed on his forehead. His eyes, once so emerald, were now red as fire. Freya gasped, shocked by his transformation. He looked her dead in the eye.

"I am one of them," he lamented. He threw the staff to the ground, and his features returned to normal. Freya was speechless. She had heard stories of Frost Giants throughout her childhood. Everybody knew them to be terrible, ruthless beasts—uncivilized in nature. In her wildest dreams, Freya never imagined she would fall in love with one. She saw the crushing agony in Loki's eyes as he collapsed onto the throne. She knew that, right now, Loki needed to know he was loved. She rushed to her Prince, ensnaring him in a suffocating embrace. She crawled into his lap, minimizing the space between them.

"I love you, Loki. No matter what you are." She whispered as she kissed the tears off his cheek. He pulled her into a deep kiss, probing her mouth with his tongue. Their mouths moved together, their lips sealed with one another. Loki drew his lips away in order for him to catch his breath.

"I love you, too." He murmured between breaths. Their lips crashed together again, and Loki tangled his fingers in Freya's hair. Freya grabbed hold of the horns on Loki's helmet, pulled it off, and tossed it to the side. As the metal helmet clanked on the ground, she began running her hands over his armored chest. Loki stood, lifting Freya as he did so, and pulled her nightgown over her head. He tossed the garment to the floor, and began to remove his armor.

"In here?" Freya asked, as Loki's armor joined her nightgown on the floor.

"Yes," He said, grabbing her scantily clad body, "I need you. Now." Freya gasped as he ripped off her underwear, and took it upon herself to remove the rest of his clothing. Within a minute, the two were completely naked. Loki grabbed Freya's buttocks and pulled her hips against his. He moaned.

"But… where?" She wondered aloud. He kissed her neck, and then threw her over his shoulder. He laid her down in the center of the throne room.

"Right here, on the floor." He growled. She sighed as he kissed down the front of her body, to her navel. His large hands groped her breasts, rubbing them in circles. He moved his hands down her torso, then her legs, and wrapped them around her ankles. He placed a kiss on each ankle before encircling her legs around his waist. He placed his hands on either side of her head, keeping her still as he thrust into her. She cried out his name. He began to pick up a steady rhythm, and shoved his tongue down her throat. She dug her nails into his back, raking them over his alabaster skin. Soon they were a sweating pile of writhing bodies. They moaned each other's names in the heat of the moment, heightening each other's pleasure. Loki picked up speed as he moved in and out of her, their skin making an audible slapping sound. Freya reached ecstasy, and the tightening of her womanhood pushed Loki over the edge as well. Exhausted, Loki collapsed on top of her, resting his head on her breast. She cooed his name and ran her fingers through his black hair. Loki remained within her until they heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Loki called out, irritation evident in his voice. The guard opened the door, and was astounded to find the king in such a state. Loki remained on top of Freya, making sure to cover the intimate parts of her body. Loki, however, had his taut backside completely exposed. He did not seem to mind. "Tell all the guards that I've retired for the evening." He blurted out before the guard could state his business. The guard rushed from the room, dutifully obeying his command.

"The King requests that you stay in his chambers this evening." Loki said sardonically. Freya laughed and kissed his cheek.

"As the King wishes," she replied with the same air of mock formality.


	10. Laufeyson

After their passionate romp on the throne room floor, the lovers haphazardly donned their abandoned clothing. Freya slipped into her nightgown, and retrieved her torn panties from across the room. She hadn't realized how aggressively Loki had removed them; so aggressive, in fact, that they were ripped nearly in two. She sighed at the loss of a perfectly good garment. Meanwhile, Loki decided against suiting up in armor once more, and only returned his pants to their original placement. His chest was still slick with sweat, and Freya openly ogled. He chuckled, voice hoarse from cries of love, and scooped her into his arms, much like a man with his new wife. He carried her from the throne room to his bedchambers, and laid her down in the middle of his bed. Freya, chilled from her drying sweat, burrowed beneath the covers. Loki followed suit, and cradled her in his strong arms.

"I don't mean to pry, my love," Freya asserted, "but how did you manage to become King?" She caressed his face, bracing herself for his response. He sighed heavily, taking a moment to reconcile his thoughts.

"After the Allfather banished Thor, I confronted him about my origins," he spat out the last word like a rotten bit of fruit. "As I questioned him, he fell into Odinsleep. Being the next heir to the throne, I naturally inherited the position." This brief statement did not satisfy Freya's hunger for the truth.

"That isn't everything, Silvertongue," she admonished, "is it?" She searched his emerald eyes, pleading for his honesty. "How did you know that you were—are—a Frost Giant?" He met her gaze, chewing the inside of his cheek. He finally conceded.

"While fighting alongside Thor in Jotunheim, a Frost Giant grabbed my forearm." He scrunched his eyes shut, as if merely speaking of it caused him physical pain. "Instead of it stinging my skin, as it would any other Asgardian, my flesh began to turn blue. After we crossed back into Asgard, and Thor was banished, I set out to find the Jotunn casket. When I touched it and transformed, I was certain." Freya solemnly listened.

"But—how did you become the Prince of Asgard if you are a Frost Giant?" Freya knew immediately that this question would be the most agonizing for Loki, and expected no answer. Loki ground his teeth together and buried his face in her neck. He surprised her with a response—a lengthy one, at that.

"Odin found me, abandoned, in Jotunheim. He brought me to Asgard to live, as his son, in the hopes of uniting the kingdoms one day. I am the bastard son of King Laufey—a runt that was left to die." His tone became ferocious, his hot breath puffing against Freya's neck with every word. "I am a beast among Asgardians and a misfit among Frost Giants. I am a monster with no home!" Freya pulled him close and kissed his forehead, in an attempt to comfort this distressed man.

"I love you, Loki. I care not whether your surname is Odinson or Laufeyson. You are the same person I have known since I was a child. Your heritage does not matter." As she spoke, Loki relaxed, and withdrew slightly so he could meet her gaze.

"How can you feel that way?" He incredulously questioned. "If we were to marry, your true surname would be Laufeyson. If we were to conceive, our children would possibly have blue skin! And what would happen if I were to transform unexpectedly? You could potentially lose your life!" Freya weighed these possibilities, flattered that he considered marriage and children.

"If I do not care that your name is Loki Laufeyson, then I would not give a damn if I were to take your true name." She began, "Secondly, our children would only be half Frost Giant, and you maintain your Asgardian form the majority of the time. And in regards to your transformations, we would simply have to be careful. It truly isn't a complicated matter." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Darling, you are a brilliant woman, but I do fear that you've gone mad." He laughed, giving her a chaste kiss. Freya smiled to herself, silently agreeing with him. Freya suddenly recalled the restraint spell she had been practicing, and chose to utilize it. She brought Loki's hands together in hers, kissing them, before conjuring a cord that bound them together. Loki gasped as the rope wound around his wrists, his face then breaking into a devilish grin.

"I see you've been doing some other research." he commented, "Had I known you were interested in that particular enchantment, I would have gladly taught you. Our sparring matches would have become much more interesting." He winked. Freya chuckled.

"But then I wouldn't have the fun of surprising you." She whispered lasciviously. She pulled his bound wrists above his head, relishing his vulnerability. She licked a trail from his sternum to the top of his pants, all the while keeping her eyes locked on his. She tugged the front of his pants down, exposing his hardened member. His eyes were wide with the thought of what she was about to do. She ran her hand over the smooth skin of his manhood, grasping it at the base. Freya took his appendage into her mouth, eliciting a loud groan from Loki. His eyes rolled back into his head as she serviced him with her warm lips, bringing him to the brink of climax. He bucked his hips and released his hot seed into her mouth, which she swallowed. Freya removed the cord from Loki's wrists, allowing him to run his hands over her body. His chest heaved with exhaustion.

"Are you like this with all of your lovers?" He gasped. Freya shook her head.

"Only you, my love." She returned. He smiled with pure satisfaction. His hand found her backside, which he playfully spanked.

"Naughty girl," he chided in jest.


	11. From Mayhem to Madness

Freya spent nearly a week in Loki's bedchambers. Every morning and evening they would take their meals together, and at noon a maid would bring her lunch. Loki was kept busy as King, spending his entire day attending to royal matters. During this time, Freya would read Loki's books or practice simple spells. She was becoming a decent sorceress. Every so often, she would sneak into the throne room to give Loki a backrub or to service him on the throne. He was quite fond of the favor she had done him that night, and requested it frequently. Freya would normally become irritated by such persistence, but she made an exception for her King. Every night, they made sweet love, cuddling and chatting afterwards. Loki began to reveal more devious plots as their love strengthened. He confessed that he indirectly caused Thor's banishment by telling Odin of his plan to confront Laufey. This did not surprise Freya, who had become accustomed to his darker side. She began to worry as he divulged his plan to kill Thor on Midgard; and fret even more so as, one night, he excitedly told her of his latest scheme.

"I have convinced Laufey to storm the castle and assassinate Odin as he sleeps." He whispered, eyes slightly wild. Freya inhaled sharply. She began to rock slightly as she sat on his bed.

"You are planning to kill the Allfather?" She mumbled, chewing on her fingernails. He laughed darkly and shook his head vigorously.

"No, no, no, no!" He corrected her, "As Laufey attempts to stab Odin, I will strike _him_ down, and kill _him_." He beamed with pride.

"I see," Freya knit her brows together, "but… why?" He chuckled.

"Because, in doing so, I will prove myself worthy to everyone in Asgard." Freya's heart ached for Loki. Perhaps if he had been treated with the same love and respect as Thor, he would not have to impress his father with such conniving ploys. She sighed and placed her hand over his, looking straight into his eyes.

"As always, my love, be careful." This was becoming a routine statement. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"Of course, darling." He assured her. She crawled into his lap, pulling her nightgown over her head, revealing her naked body. As she kissed him, he kept his lips tightly sealed. Confused, Freya leaned back to assess his expression.

"As lovely as you are, my dear," He ran his hand over her ribcage, "I am afraid that I still have duties to fulfill this evening." Freya blinked, taken aback. Loki grimaced. "I am sorry. Perhaps later." He slid her out of his lap, kissed her briefly, and exited the room. Freya sat, swallowing rejection. She pulled her nightgown back on and reclined on the mattress. Perhaps I will get a decent amount of sleep tonight, she mused. She drifted off to sleep, wondering what Loki had planned for this evening.

She awoke late the next morning, with no evidence of Loki returning to the chamber. She huffed, jealously suspecting that Loki had taken on another lover. She bitterly ate her breakfast before visiting the royal bathhouse. It was empty, as she had hoped. She discarded her clothing and stepped into the warm water, attempting to wash her anxiety away. It was a hopeless venture. Dissatisfied, but clean, Freya left the bathhouse and returned to Loki's chambers, the afternoon sun pouring through the windows. She found Loki sitting on the green sofa, hastily tapping his foot.

"Where were you?" He blurted out, before taking in her damp appearance. "Ah, the bathhouse. I've been looking for you. It seems not everything will go as smoothly as planned." His words were rushed, uneasy. Freya was immediately wary.

"What do you mean?" She probed. He wrung his hands together.

"Thor survived my attempt." He stood, gazing out the window. Freya knew this would bring some sort of consequence.

"What else?" She demanded, her hand on her hip. He ran his hand through his raven hair.

"He will be returning to Asgard, to battle me." Her heart fell into her stomach. Loki was a skilled sorcerer, but Thor had brute force on his side. She could not fathom an outcome in which Loki won. She ran up behind him, encircling his waist with her arms. He stayed facing towards the window.

"I want you to be safe." She whimpered. "Please, run away with me. We can hide on Midgard." She begged him, tears rolling down her face.

"I will not run." He growled, "I will stand and fight. I will take Thor's life." She let go of him, knowing his decision had been made. He turned towards Freya, eyes burning with determination.

"I love you, Loki Laufeyson." She whispered. He kissed her forehead.

"And I love you, Lady Freya." He rubbed the tears off her cheekbone with his thumb, before storming out of the chambers. As soon as the door shut behind him, Freya began to sob.

She waited in his chambers for what seemed like an eternity. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her stomach twisted into knots. The sun set on Asgard, bringing no relief. At one point, Freya heard a colossal explosion, but was too afraid to investigate. Not long after, she heard a knock on the door. She scurried to open it, finding a palace guard.

"You are requested in the throne room." He declared. She took off running, not waiting for his command to follow. She reached the golden doors, which the two guards dutifully opened. She burst into the room, and came to a screeching halt. Thor stood next to the throne. Freya's heart was in her throat. Thor's stormy blue eyes, grief-stricken, met hers.

"Loki destroyed Jotunheim, and the Bifrost was destroyed," he began, "I had to break the bridge to stop the destruction from spreading." The noise she heard. "Loki and I dangled off the bridge, as my father awoke from Odinsleep." Her heart was near bursting with each beat. "He let go, and fell." His voice cracked. "I understand that you and my brother were close," he continued, "and I thought I should tell you myself." Freya fell to her knees. Not Loki, not her sweet Loki. She felt her heart slice into ribbons. She cried out loud.

"You know nothing of your brother!" She shrieked, eyes wild. "You caused this! He was finally happy, and you ruined everything!" She was screaming. She lunged at Thor, clawing at his face. He held her back with a strong hand, making sure not to injure her. Infuriated, she turned and ran from the throne room. She sprinted out towards the bridge, which was, as Thor reported, broken. She walked to its jagged edge, staring down into the abyss. She considered launching herself after him, but could not bring herself to it. She backed away and ran to the guest chambers. She sat before the mirror, seeing the tear stains on her face. In a fit of rage, she punched the glass, cracking the mirror and slicing her knuckles. She thought about life without him. She couldn't bear it. Never before had suicide seemed so desirable. She vomited on the floor.

The nights came and went, Freya never sleeping. She sat in a stupor on her bed, not eating or drinking, and vomiting every so often. Thor visited, apologizing for how events had transpired. She did not hear him. Her maid eventually forced her to eat, which she did reluctantly. She did not feel hunger.

A funeral for Loki was held in the Great Hall, which Freya attended. She stood in the corner of the room, silent, as the mourners told tales of Loki's greatest conquests. She was disgusted. They were happy he was gone, every last one of them. The mourners turned to her, expecting her to share a story. She raised her untouched glass of wine.

"To King Loki, the greatest ruler Asgard has ever known," she said, before throwing the chalice to the ground. It shattered into a thousand pieces. Glaring at the attendees, she turned on her heel and left the massive room. She cried herself to sleep that night.


	12. Life After Death

Over the next month, Freya became self-destructive. She scratched her skin till it bled, and pulled pieces of her hair out. Her appearance changed radically. Her face hollowed, her hair became frizzy from being pulled, and she lost weight. Her eyes, once warm, became cold and dead. She dreamt of Loki every night, and woke up in tears every morning. Thor allowed her to stay in the guest chambers; guilt plagued him. He still visited, attempting to console her.

"I fell in love, on Midgard," he confided, "I had to leave her there. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made. I miss her every day." Freya turned to him.

"What is her name?" She asked, her voice flat.

"Jane." He replied with a sad smile.

"Jane lives. You know nothing of loss." She snapped. Thor cast his eyes downward, catching sight of the newest scratches on her arms.

"You need to see a healer." He advised. "I will send for one." Freya glared at him.

"I do not wish to see a healer." She retorted.

"I insist," He continued, "those wounds will get infected if you do not tend to them." He summoned a palace guard. "Fetch a healer for Lady Freya." He commanded. Freya grunted in discontent. Soon enough, a healer arrived. It was an elderly woman. She examined Freya's wounds, issuing the same healing spell Loki had used on her eons ago. The woman examined her distressed scalp, mending the injuries there. She turned to leave, but halted in her tracks before critically looking Freya up and down.

"You have lost weight, yes?" The woman pried. Freya nodded, irritated. The healer gestured for Thor to leave the room. He complied willingly. "Your breasts are swollen." She remarked.

"They have always been large." Freya stated. The healer cocked her head to the side.

"Please lie flat," she requested. Freya huffed and reclined on the bed. The healer pressed against her stomach.

"And your stomach is tight," the healer observed.

"I have lost weight. That has been established." Freya returned.

"You need a more thorough examination." The woman quipped. "I am going to have to ask you to hike up your skirts."

"And why do you need me to do that?" Freya inquired with agitation.

"Because I am almost completely sure that you are pregnant." The healer replied. Incredulous, Freya did as the healer asked. The healer quickly examined her nether region before pulling her skirts back down.

"As I suspected," the healer concluded, "you are with child. I would hazard a guess that you are about a month and a half into your pregnancy." Freya gawped. The woman scuttled out of the room. Unsure of who to call, Freya shouted for the first person that popped into her mind.

"Thor!" Freya called out, frantic. Thor came bursting back into the chamber. "Thor, I'm with child." She confessed. He stood, befuddled. "It is Loki's baby." She continued. His eyes widened.

"Are you certain it is his child?" He asked. Freya nodded vigorously.

"The healer believes that I have been pregnant for over a month," she said, "Loki and I were courting at that time, and I haven't been with any man since." Thor covered his mouth. Unsure of how to react, he pat her on the back. "How am I going to care for a child by myself?" She fretted.

"If Loki is that child's father," Thor stated, "then it is of royal blood. You can have the help of the palace maids and healers." Tears stung Freya's eyes.

"Thank you." She choked out. He squeezed her hand, and then left. Freya lay back on her bed, feeling her stomach. She had not noticed how taut it was. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. She had to take care of herself—Loki's child needed her. She never imagined herself as a mother; the thought of a little piece of Loki inside her made her determined to love this child more than anything. This child saved her life.

The months continued to pass, her stomach growing in size. Soon she could feel her baby kick. She relished the slight pain of it—anything that reminded her of her pregnancy made her happy. She gained weight, as ordered by a healer. She stopped pulling out her hair, but it remained frizzier than it once was. She had decided on a name for the child: Nari if it was a boy, and Eir if it was a girl.

She longed for Loki. Sometimes she swore she could feel his presence, in the moments when she fell asleep, or whenever she felt her baby kick. She still cried each night, bitter tears staining her pillow. She was soon eight months pregnant, and ordered to stay in bed. Her stomach was so large that walking was a chore anyway. Thor continued to visit, providing a comforting word when needed. He promised that she and her child would be taken care of.

One night, Thor disappeared. Freya inquired about his location, but received no definitive answer. She felt alone once more. Two weeks later, Freya's maid burst into her chambers in a frenzy. Her hurried movements left her breathless, and she could barely speak.

"Lady Freya!" She exclaimed, "You must see this!" The maid assisted her out of bed, and into the hallway. Freya waddled as fast as she could manage, stopping to rest every few minutes. They were soon outside the castle, heading towards the bridge. A crowd formed up ahead, shouting angrily. Freya stopped, unwilling to step onto the bridge, and caught her breath. She placed a hand on her back as she squinted to make out what was happening. The crowd soon parted, and two men strode forth.

Thor, filthy and bruised, pulled a leaner man behind him. He wore a metal gag, chains, and an unmistakable green cape.


	13. Meeting an Old Lover

Loki's hair had grown, becoming wilder with time. He had dark circles under his eyes and several cuts on his face. Freya longed to throw herself at his feet, a hysterical mess; but she was glued to the ground. She had no idea how he survived, or how Thor found him, or why he was bound and gagged. His eyes were downcast, avoiding the obscenities the crowd shouted at him. His eyes suddenly flicked up, meeting Freya's dead on. She began to cry. His eyes moved from her face to her large stomach, and back to the ground. Loki and Thor moved past the onlookers and into the palace. Freya followed as quickly as she could. The two entered the throne room, and the guards closed the door before Freya could enter.

"Let me in." She demanded, staring the guard down.

"Only the royal family is allowed in the throne room as of this moment." The guard replied.

"Well, I am pregnant with the next member of the royal family!" She seethed, pounding on the door.

"I'm sorry, Lady Freya," the guard said, "but I've been ordered not to let anyone else in." Freya began to blubber, her gestational hormones exaggerating her reaction.

"Ask Thor," she pleaded, "He will understand." The guard sighed and entered the room. After a moment or two, he returned.

"You may enter." He stated. Freya entered the room as quietly as possible. The door shut with a thud behind her. This caused everybody to turn in her direction. Freya stood, timid and embarrassed. Odin cleared his throat and they returned their attention.

"Loki," Odin boomed angrily, "You are guilty of treason, war crimes, and attempted murder. You must be punished." Freya's breathing became rapid and shallow. "Any other man would be sentenced to death. However, I will make an exception. I sentence you to –" Freya cut him off.

"Please, Allfather," she curtsied as best as she could, "please do not be too harsh. I need him to help raise our child." Loki's eyes widened in shock.

"Loki killed eighty Midgardians in two days. He opened a portal between a new realm and Midgard. He attempted to kill Thor, and he attempted to kill me. He must face repercussions." Freya began to blubber again. Odin ignored her. "I sentence you, Loki, to six months in prison." Freya cried out.

"Our baby is due before then! Please! I need him!" She whimpered. Loki's eyes met hers for a moment, the metal gag still preventing him from speaking. Odin rubbed his hand over his face, huffing.

"Please escort Lady Freya back to her chambers." Odin shouted to the guards outside. Freya glared at Odin through her tears before complying. In her chambers, Freya chewed her nails, dreading the sentence. She heard a knock on her door.

"Come in," she called over her shoulder. She heard leather boots thud on the ground. She looked up to see Loki in her doorway, small lesions outlining where the metal gag had been. She gasped. He took a few steps into her chamber, taking stock of his surroundings.

"I missed this room." He mused, quietly. His eyes roved over the bed, where they used to make love.

"Then why did you leave?" She whispered through her tears. He sat down beside her, taking her hand in his.

"That night, on the bridge," he squeezed her hand, "as I held on, Odin told me that I would never be good enough. I didn't want to live."

"I now know how that feels." She murmured. Loki kissed her hand, playing with her fingertips. He paused and glanced at Freya's belly.

"It's your baby, Loki." She assured him. He exhaled heavily.

"A bastard child, just like me." He laughed darkly. Freya cradled his face.

"I prefer to use the term 'lovechild'" she said, kissing his cheek. He placed his hand on her belly, feeling the baby move. His eyes were wide with amazement. "I have some names in mind," she added.

"What are they?" he asked, excitement in his voice.

"If it's a boy, then Nari." She confided, "And if it's a girl, then Eir. Of course, you have to like the names." He smiled.

"I love them. They're perfect." He pressed hi s forehead to hers. She took a deep breath.

"Loki?" She probed, "What is your sentence?" She anxiously awaited his response.

"I think your pleading helped my case," he began, "I have been sentenced to one year without magic." She grinned foolishly, relieved. He smiled back. "So," it was his turn to pry, "how long until our baby is born?" Freya kissed him on the lips.

"At the end of the month." She replied.

One week later, Freya went into labor. Loki comforted her throughout the process, holding her hand. She gave birth to a boy, whom they named Nari. Two months later, Loki asked Freya to be his wife. They married the next month, out of the public eye. Freya took Loki's true surname, Laufeyson. Loki served his year without magic, which provided Freya with many opportunities to overpower him. The two later had a daughter, whom they named Eir. Neither of their children showed any signs of Jotunn heritage. Loki and Freya remained companions, soul mates, and lovers.


End file.
